


In the Space Between Stories

by sheepybaa



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Canon Compliant, Drabble, Epic Friendship, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Not A Fix-It, Possibly Unrequited Love, tsundere Revali
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-02-16 05:25:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18685027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheepybaa/pseuds/sheepybaa
Summary: Stories of Champions and Princesses, both before the Calamity and after.  A collection of my Breath of the Wild drabbles.





	1. A Disquieting Discovery (Zelda figures out Mipha is in love with Link)

**Author's Note:**

> I have too many feelings about the Champions, and I often think about all the many, many things that must have happened in between the handful of scenes we see in Breath of the Wild. This is a place for me to keep any snippets I write, drabbles about things that might have been, could have been, may very well yet be—moments that happen somewhere in the in-between, where no one thought to look. 
> 
> Canon compliant. These are likely to be both pre- and post-Calamity. Likely to also be Mipha and Zelda-centric, as I love the two of them.

"I see the bottomless pit won't be joining us today?" Revali says as he strolls into the dining room. Urbosa, Daruk, and Zelda are all already there, as is Mipha, sitting around one end of the large, otherwise empty tables. Link, as Revali observed, is conspicuously absent. 

"I believe he has a meeting with the castle guard," Mipha offers softly as Revali takes a seat in the empty chair across from hers. Nobody questions how it is she knows Link's schedule. After so many moons together, they're all accustomed to it. 

"Link works hard," Zelda says to Revali, frowning. She's just starting to get attached to Link, now, after so many moons of bitter resentment. Mipha is relieved. "You oughtn't say such rude things about something he enjoys."

"Oh, please," Revali scoffs, rolling his eyes as he ladles some steaming soup into his bowl from the nearest tureen. "Someone has to ensure that meat-headed idiot's ego is kept in check. I certainly don't see any of you doing it."

"If that really is your mission, perhaps you should engage him in the training yard instead of the verbal arena," Urbosa drawls, reclined gracefully in her chair as if this is her own kingdom, not Hyrule. "After all, it's not as if he puts up much of a fight."

"I decimate the boy regularly on the archery field," Revali retorts, waving a careless, graceful hand. "I want to check his ego, Urbosa, not utterly break his spirit."

"I think it'd take more than some name-calling to bust the little guy's back," Daruk observes heartily, laughing. "He bounces back faster than almost anyone I've seen!"

"Ah. That reminds me," Revali says almost dismissively. He reaches into one of his small belt pouches and tosses something to Daruk, who catches it as if by rote before peering at it curiously. "I spotted one of these glowing during my morning flight. I know you mentioned such stones are considered a delicacy amongst your people, so I thought I'd bring it back for you."

Daruk's curious expression lights up like the sun. "Well, thank you kindly, brother!" He crushes the stone between his palms and sprinkles the shimmering dust on top of his soup, which is one of the milk-based concoctions that both Gorons and other races can enjoy. Daruk picks up his spoon and starts in on it with gusto. 

"How kind of you, Revali," Zelda says, her smile warm with approval. "Even I hadn't remembered such a thing."

Revali looks away from the Princess and clears his throat. "Yes, well," he says brusquely, as if it really isn't a big deal for him to do something like this. "The man complains often enough about our poor taste in seasonings. I'm simply doing my part in quieting his moaning."

"I haven't seen a look that love-stricken since Link gave our Zora Princess a Hearty Radish," Urbosa comments as Daruk stares almost reverently down at his soup, her sharp features amused. 

Blood immediately rushes to Mipha's face. "I--those were for healing potions," she stammers, unable to keep her composure with the way Urbosa smiles at her knowingly. Mipha drops her gaze to her plate, unable to maintain eye contact. 

"Are you referring to our excursion a week past?" Zelda asks the chieftainess inquisitively, sounding curious. Urbosa hums a confirmation. 

"You were too busy looking at the shrine, Princess, but everybody else saw it," Daruk says merrily, waving his spoon about rather dangerously. Without looking, Urbosa lifts her napkin and catches a drop of soup midair as it arcs toward her clothing. 

"Oh, please; it was a radish," Revali interjects in disgust, sitting back in his chair like he can't believe what he's hearing. At the end of the table, Mipha suddenly notices Zelda is glancing between the four of them with a small, bemused frown on her face. Mipha's stomach lurches, and she feels a strange sense of foreboding chill her skin. Her palms grow clammy. 

"Yes, but it was a radish shaped like a heart," Urbosa drawls knowingly, glancing down the table with a mischievous little smirk playing about her lips. Mipha is too full of dread to feel any further embarrassment. She opens her mouth to say something, to ask her compatriots to stop, but before she can, Zelda's face goes pale. 

Daruk is laughing, and Revali scoffs and starts in on a rant about pointless banalities and you're all a bunch of useless, simpering fools--but down at the end of the table, Zelda's blue eyes are as wide as dinner plates. 

"Oh," the Princess says quietly, like she's just had an epiphany--and it's clear from the dumbstruck look on her face that she has. Her wide eyes turn to Mipha, who watches Zelda's quick, clever mind click through all the facts and recalibrate her view of the world in light of this latest deduction, and so she sees the moment when the Princess reaches the obvious, painful conclusion. 

Zelda's face softens. The Princess reaches out and places her pale hand over Mipha's on the tabletop, her bright blue eyes glimmering with compassion, or perhaps pity: Mipha isn't sure which it is. Urbosa seems to have noticed something is wrong, for she's ceased bantering with Daruk and Revali and is frowning over at their end of the table, watching the exchange. 

"Oh, Mipha," Zelda whispers, her gentle voice thick with sadness and regret. "I... I'm so sorry."

"It's alright, Princess," Mipha says quietly, managing a small smile in the face of Zelda's stricken expression. "Please, don't trouble yourself over it. I am fine." The rest of the dining room has fallen silent. The air is so still, Mipha can hear the distant noises of knights crossing practice swords in the training yard, even through the closed windows. Zelda's thick swallow is audible in the suddenly heavy air. 

"I..." the Princess begins hesitantly, but her youthful voice trails off into nothingness. She doesn't seem to know what to say. 

Across the table, Revali stands abruptly; his chair scrapes loudly over the stone floor. Zelda looks startled, but the rest of the champions don't so much as blink. They all watch in silence as he stalks out of the room. The heavy door to the dining room falls shut, and the sound echoes behind him. 

"Well, that could have gone better," Urbosa sighs, bringing one hand up to a stray piece of her voluminous hair and sweeping it back into place. 

"I'll go check on him," Mipha offers, rising from her seat. It isn't that she wants to avoid them, really, but she can't spend another moment pinned down by the helpless pity she can see in Zelda's eyes. The room is quiet as Mipha slips out of the large dining room, leaving her meal unfinished. She knows Urbosa is the best one to handle the following conversation, anyway. 

She finds Revali in the archery yard, firing arrow after arrow into a target hundreds of yards downrange in the fading light. That he is on the ground, and not flying, speaks to his agitation. 

"That boy is an idiot," he spits when Mipha walks up behind him, without even pausing in his shooting. 

"He has many other things on his mind," she offers, her hands clasped demurely in front of her. Revali's last shot whizzes through the air and thunks solidly into the center of the target, slicing the arrow that came before it in half, before he whirls on her. 

"We all have other things on our minds. He is not the only one who's been busy preparing for the Calamity," Revali retorts with fire in his eyes. "Even the Princess herself has noticed your feelings. Do not make excuses for him."

Mipha smiles sadly. "I cannot help it," she tells her friend quietly. 

Revali's eyes soften. After a moment, he closes them, tips his head back, and sighs, a sound full of frustration and long-suffering weariness, and then, he does something she would never have expected: he pulls her in for a hug. 

"You deserve better than some upstart brat with nothing but a sword between his ears," Revali says quietly, pressing her gently into his feathers. Mipha closes her eyes and returns the embrace, allowing herself this small comfort. His downy chest is warm, and feels as soft as silk against her cheek. 

"None of us chooses who they love," she offers in return. Revali says nothing, but Mipha can feel him sigh. 

Zelda comes to find her later, as Mipha knows she will. She is waiting for the Princess on the small balcony where they have most of their private conversations, near Mipha's rooms in the guest wing of the palace. The garden is lit by moonlight, washed pale and gray. Zelda's footsteps whisper over the stones behind her. 

"Mipha," Zelda says. The uncertainty in her voice nearly breaks Mipha's heart. Mipha turns to glance over her shoulder and smiles at the Princess welcomingly, trying to ease her worries. 

"The stars are beautiful tonight, Princess," Mipha offers, her head tipped invitingly towards the glittering sky. "Won't you join me?"

Zelda's feet are hesitant, but she makes her way over to the bench where Mipha sits and settles beside her carefully. 

"I sent him away for the night, before I came," Zelda says awkwardly at length, as if she is afraid of overstepping. Mipha doesn't have to ask who she means. 

"Good," Mipha replies with a smile, looking out over the starry courtyard. "He is always pushing himself too hard. I'm sure he could use the rest."

"Why did you never tell me?" Zelda finally asks. She sounds hurt. 

"There didn't seem to be any point," Mipha answers after a short period of silence. "You’ve been carrying your own burdens, and mine are not yours to bear. But, in a way," she adds, looking at Zelda before the Princess can become upset or protest, "I did tell you. Quite some time ago, in fact."

Zelda looks confused for a moment, and Mipha watches her struggling to put together the pieces to figure out the moment she's alluding to. When she remembers, Zelda's expression clears like the sky before an oncoming dawn. 

"The pains of duty," she says, her voice full of realization. Zelda turns and looks at her. "You were referring to this."

Mipha smiles sadly, and for a moment, Zelda looks heartbroken. Then, her face pinches up in frustration, and the Princess begins to look increasingly upset. 

"I--" Zelda looks out over the courtyard, her eyes flickering back and forth as her clever brain whirs, clearly trying to come up with a solution. 

"I will have my father release him from his duties as soon as the Calamity has passed," Zelda decides, her voice firm and certain in a way that Mipha has rarely heard before. Her back is straight, her shoulders strong, and in that moment, Zelda looks more a Princess than Mipha has ever seen her. 

"Thank you, Your Highness," Mipha says, hiding her proud smile since it doesn't fit the mood, "But I am not the only one whose feelings matter in this, I'm afraid."

Zelda turns, her blue eyes flashing. "Link would be a fool to turn you down," she says with conviction, leaning forward to take Mipha's hands in hers. Her face is serious, and Mipha can't help the little laugh that peeks past her surprise. 

"You know, my father said the same thing," she admits, and Zelda looks surprised for a moment before she smiles, too, and then the two of them are giggling over their clasped hands on the balcony, sharing a secret in the darkness like the young, carefree girls they’ve never had the chance to be.


	2. The Silent Princess (Zelda mourns Mipha)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During her first visit to Zora’s Domain following Mipha’s death, Zelda finds a moment to privately grieve.

Zora’s Domain is peaceful at night. The only sound here is the sound of water—ever-present, unceasing, flowing, dripping, and burbling away. It fills the silence with song.

 

_“I find it difficult to sleep here, at times,” Mipha confesses, her eyes turned down demurely. She glances up almost shyly, like a flower opening to the light, and glances at Zelda once before looking away, out into the empty library. “It’s so...quiet, here. In your castle,” the Princess of the Zora says, her soft voice nearly swallowed by the countless books._

It isn’t mine, _Zelda wants to say. But she says nothing._

 

The hem of Zelda’s cloak whispers over the ground. She remembers the last time she was here. It sits vivid in her mind like a painting, or a picture captured on a Sheikah slate—one shining, brilliant moment, frozen forever in time.

 

_The Zora princess is beautiful. She smiles down at Zelda from atop the crystalline dais, her mouth soft like the curl of a fern. “It would be my honor,” the princess says, sweeping briefly into a small, graceful bow. Her father looks down upon her proudly._

 

The last time Zelda was here, she came as a thief. She came with power and with demands—not requests—and left with precious, precious things that were not hers to take. In return, she gave them nothing.

Her soft slippers are quiet upon the damp stone. This time, this cool summer’s night, she is here as a guest—a friend, perhaps. She is certainly no longer here as a princess. Every time someone calls her _Princess Zelda,_ she can feel the lie of it weigh heavy on her shoulders. An empty title for an empty name.

However, as she is no longer a princess, she now comes to the Zora as an equal, instead of a ruler, and it makes things...easier, perhaps. Now, she may come and go without the strict rules and etiquette that once bound her stiff as steel. Without such worries, the Domain is a whole new place.

The courtyard is thankfully empty. She wouldn’t be embarrassed to be caught out here, precisely, but this is a private place—a private moment. She doesn’t want to share it with anyone else.

 

_”Don’t tell anyone,” Mipha whispers over their clasped hands. Her eyes glimmer like topazes in the torchlight, pleading._

_“I won’t,” Zelda promises. The shy, secretive smile Mipha offers her makes Zelda feel like a million fireflies have taken up space behind her breastbone._

 

In the blue-tinged light of the Zora lanterns, swathed and hooded in her cloak, Zelda kneels. The roughspun fabric whispers as it pools upon the stone.

“Hello, Mipha,” Zelda says softly. The night air swallows the words.

Mipha’s statue smiles down upon her like a benevolent goddess. The monument truly is a masterpiece. Whoever sculpted it clearly knew the princess well, for the likeness is uncanny.

 

_The Zora princess smiles sadly. “I’ve found it’s best not to dwell on one’s darker thoughts, Princess,” Mipha advises her gently, her golden eyes kind but sad. “If we feed them, they will only grow.” She reaches out and tucks Zelda’s hand through the crook of her arm, gently, and steers them out back into the sunlight. The hesitance that came with such a gesture months ago is gone: they’ve become fast friends, Zelda thinks. “Shall we take a turn about the ruins?” Mipha suggests, pulling her from her musings. “I heard the diggers have discovered some curious runes...”_

 

Tears slide down Zelda’s cheeks. She isn’t sure when they started. “I can see you everywhere in this place,” she confesses, her hands shaking upon her knees. “In the flowers, in the gardens—I could even see you in the throne room, standing just beside your father,” she says with a small, choked laugh brought on by grief, tempered by the thickness in her throat. Zelda clenches her jaw.

“It’s so _hard,_ ” she admits, her voice small and wobbling, “To look him in the eye without you there beside me. Like...”

She clenches her hand tight into a fist. _Like a light has gone out of the world,_ she thinks but does not say.

“I miss you every day,” she says, and hopes that somewhere, Mipha can hear it.

At last, she reaches into her belt and removes the Silent Princess from its careful wrappings. She didn’t want to crush it in a fit of grief.

 

_”There are always trials,” Mipha says, her jewelry chiming gently as it sways in the wind. She turns away from the horizon, determined, and looks Zelda in the eye. “But that is what champions are for. We risk the danger, that others might be safe.”_

 

After a moment, Zelda reaches out and lays the flower before the statue’s feet.

 

_“You are more a princess than I’ve ever been,” Zelda says bitterly. Her father’s words still ring harshly in her ears._

_“I hardly deserve the title,” she adds, misery pouring thoughts out of her mouth like blackened tar._

_Mipha’s hands take hold Zelda’s and bring them up into her line of sight. It startles her. She looks up._

_“Then_ earn _it,” Mipha urges her. Her voice and hands are somehow still gentle as a whisper. Zelda stares up at her in shock._

 

A familiar kind of determination, kindled then, wells in Zelda’s heart as she looks up at the shadow of Mipha’s face. “I will do my best to make you proud,” she vows in the silence of the night.

In the peaceful darkness of Zora’s Domain, a princess rises, silent, and feels at ease. Under the soft sounds of running water burbling away into the Hyrule night, she takes her leave.

Another stays.


End file.
